


What I Can Give to You

by Ms_Julius



Category: The Simpsons
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gifts, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 19:24:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17188925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Julius/pseuds/Ms_Julius
Summary: The exchange of gifts is not always the easiest of tasks.Especially when you are not entirely sure what to give for the most important person of your life.





	What I Can Give to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hereticality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hereticality/gifts).



> This is a little holiday present for @Hereticality, a wonderful artist whose works pushed me to write for this fandom in the first place (^_^)  
> Hope you like it, it was a delight to write.

It was snowing, finally. For the whole December it had seemed that the town of Springfield might have to settle for a dark,rainy Christmas eve. However, a late front of powdery snowflakes had reached the city in time for holidays, coating the land with white layer of snow and encouraging even the most pettish locals to go outside and enjoy. That is, until the storm picked up and transformed the winter wonderland into a battlefield of nature and man, throwing piles of snow across the roads and pushing people back inside in front of the warm fireplaces. Only those with a set goal would defy the sour weather, venturing outside carefully and with squinted eyes while trying to see what was before them in the snowy landscape.

Smithers was more than glad he was not one of those people. He was safely tugged inside the Burns’ mansion, looking out into the storm from the comfort of the well-furnished living room and with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. He had done his Christmas shopping early this year. A month beforehand, in fact. And now, with the freezing winds lashing the outside of the house with a biting furor, he gave himself a light pat on the back.

He had spent a remarkable amount of time in his attempt to find a gift for his lover. Over the years he had grown accustomed to the unspoken rhythm between them: he wouldn’t bother to get Monty anything, mainly because the man was more than capable of purchasing anything he might desire whenever he pleased, and Monty would restrain from buying anything for him either. Not for the lack of trying, certainly, but he just wasn’t the type of person who could come up with intriguing ideas for presents all on his own. He had made few attempts, but after a while they decided to let the matter drop and just settled for spending the Christmas day together.

But now, with their newly found relationship laying open on the table, the simple act of staying in the same house over the holidays seemed inadequate. They needed something more, something new to establish the sense of closeness between them. And after a few days of thought, Smithers had come up with an idea for a perfect present.

The package itself was set on a couch behind him. He had already wrapped it up, just in case of Monty accidentally stumbling to it before the Christmas eve. It’s nothing too special in of itself, but the meaning behind the gesture should be enough to convey his intentions. Or at least he’d like to believe so.

“Waylon?”

The questioning voice came from the doorway leading further into the house. Smithers turned around slightly, still holding his warm mug of coffee. There, staring at him across the room, his love was leaning against the wooden frame of the door with a small box in his hand.

Smiling softly he turns all the way, letting his grin show. “I was wondering where you have been the whole day.”

Monty gave him a faint smirk of his own before stepping fully into the living room. The present he was holding remained on his grasp.

“I... I had few things that required my attention.” He lifts the box a bit, quirking an eyebrow. He looked nervous, tapping his fingers against the package.

“I see. And what might be in it?” Smithers couldn’t help but feel a tiny spark of warmth inside his chest when Monty let out a tender laugh, the corners of his eyes wrinkling a little. It was a welcomed sight, especially today.

“Why don’t you find out?” Monty said, moving in closer so that the two of them ended up standing an inch apart. The blush on his cheeks grew in intensity as he pushed the box forward, his eyes darting downwards when Smithers reached out and took the present from him.

“It’s not much. I wasn’t quite sure what to give you...”

Not wanting to wait, Smithers gently unwrapped his small gift, glancing up at Monty’s nervous gaze briefly before opening it. It was an elegant, beautifully crafted wooden case with a hinge in one side. The lid on top of it was made of bright metal, a delicate design of lines running along the surface of it. It was certainly well made, no visible error on the handwork of it.

“Monty, this is beautiful.” He smiled widely, caressing the smooth top of it. “It looks... old?”

The man before him cleared his throat, glancing at his feet. “You haven’t really opened it yet.”

“Oh?” He took a closer look, sliding his finger against the hinge. “So it opens?”

“Yes, but do be careful.” The tone of Monty’s voice dropped low. “It... hasn’t been opened in a long time.”

Slowly, with his movements precise, Smithers clicked the metal latch free and pushed the lid. There, in the middle of dark purple velvet, laid an old, gilded pocket watch. The numbers on it had faded a bit, but you could still tell a time from them.

It was stunning.

And as he turned it around on his palm, a dull lump of an emotion swelled up in the back of this throat.

_“Waylon Smithers Sr.”_

“This was... It belonged to...”

“Yes.” Monty was looking at him, his shoulders hunched up and a wary look dancing in his eyes. “He wore it every day. And I’d rather like to think he would have wanted you to have it.”

With a shaking hand, Smithers slipped the chain around his wrist, fastening it before it had a chance to slid off. The weight of it felt soothing on his skin, a reminder of the man he had so desperately wished to know for decades. He had let go, in a way, but to have something like this to remember him by, it seemed... right.

Monty didn’t have time to step back before Smithers threw himself towards him, locking him into a place with his arms wrapped around the slim waist.

“It is perfect! Absolutely perfect.”

After a few seconds Monty raised his hands as well, setting them gently on Smithers’ shoulders. He wasn’t able to see anything past the man’s fluffy heap of hair, but right now, it didn’t bother him terribly.

“I am glad you approve. It was a hassle to wrap.”

A burst of laughter broke the tension in the room, and Smithers pulled away just far enough to peck a chaste kiss on top of Monty’s nose. “Not the most romantic thing to say, darling.”

Monty smirked. “Perhaps not, but it’s true.”

They stayed close for what felt like hours before the older man eventually stepped back and glanced at the direction of the couch. “Is that for me?”

Smithers had almost forgotten the package, but once Monty pointed it out, he quickly snatched it from the pillows and brushed off an imaginary pieces of dust. Beside him, Monty merely looked at him, obviously trying to conceal his curiosity.

Once he was sure his gift was as presentable as it would ever be, Smithers held it in front of him, gesturing the other man to grab it. “It’s nothing too special, like your present,” he said silently, “but I do hope you enjoy it nonetheless.”

With a steady fingers Monty pulled open the strings holding the package together. The wrapping paper grumbled as he tore it off, letting it float to the floor. It didn’t take him long to take out a surprisingly large book, the covers of it coated with a thick leather. For a moment he looked confused, glancing at Smithers before continuing to examine it. He opened the first page, and Smithers’ heart gave a small jump when he heard the choked breath in the quiet room.

On his now trembling hands Monty held an album filled with pictures. Smithers smiled warmly as he watched his lover turn the pages, not saying a word but then again, he didn’t really need to. His thoughts were perfectly clear for anyone to see, and the way he ran his fingers over every last one of the photos spoke in a louder volumes than his voice ever could.

They were old photographs, some of them black and white, some with bright colors. All of them picturing them both, starting from when Waylon was first starting at the powerplant, and ending with a recent shot of them leaning over a railing of the mansion’s balcony. It was taken with a smartphone Waylon had set up beforehand, and the angle of view showed the way they were pressed close together, their hands intertwined. They were relaxed, smiley and the picture showed it all.

“Waylon. You didn’t... There was no need to -” The fraction of a shatter prompted Waylon to gather his partner into his arms once more, the album wobbling between them but remaining in Monty’s shaking hands.

“I know. I wanted to.”

Monty had burned a lot of this past. Literally tossing piles of old heirlooms into the flames, turning folder after folder into ash in his weak attempt to rid himself of the time periods of his life he wished to forget. Waylon had stood and witnessed most of it, and as the holidays drew near, he had decided to at least try and replace some of those lost memories with something new. Something better, shared only by them.

And judging from the grateful eyes of the trembling man leaning on him, he had succeeded.

Against his chest, a mumbles voice spoke out softly.

“I do wish we can fill the blank pages as well.”

Waylon tightened his hold, pressing his lover closer.

“We will. I can promise you that.”

They didn’t notice the snow soaring down outside. The howling wind was completely lost on them as they settled down on the couch and wrapped themselves into a cozy nest of blankets and pillows, shutting out the world beyond the mansion’s walls.

It was just them, the flames in the fireplace, and a comforting silence.


End file.
